Saturday, March 4, 2017

smoke in your eyeswhen I gave up smoking cigarettesseemed like the whole world staggeredto an end -- kalpas shakingwhen I took the key right out my mouththe howl -- like somebody forgotto feed the cats -- it was like thattook the receiver off the hookdial tone back in the 20th centurynow white noise -- it was like thatfragments shattered on volcano shorethen the waves washed them awayblank mirror in your facenever did quite understand the meaningof nicotine -- smoked a long clay pipefor a time, packed with Balkan Sobranielet us now meditate on the significanceof the filter, or exotic associationsGitanes in the French Caribbeanunfiltered Camels in downtown New Yorklife measured out by tobaccothe habitual pose, gazing at autumn leavessomething to do with the fingers and lipsrolling ciggies, kissing tobaccoit did not seem particularly eroticseasons going by, nerves numbgazing out at the sea, waves washing awayand brushing off the ashes, all the asheswhen I gaving up smoking cigarettesit was like turning the radio offthat pulsing moment stopped time abruptlya study of the limits of desirewhen a lovely flame dieshaunted scent of ancient autumn leaves--Ross Bender